


It Wasn't My Fault!

by cabintardlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Holmes Brothers, Kid Sherlock, Kidlock, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, No Romance, Teen Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabintardlock/pseuds/cabintardlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The door made a small creak as it closed and Sherlock tiptoed in. He held his breath as he stepped lightly, head turned down and curls hanging low to cover up his face. It was all for nothing though, as who he was trying to avoid knew he’d come in anyways.</p><p>“Sherlock, welcome home,” the crisp voice called out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't My Fault!

**Author's Note:**

> Secret Santa gift for the lovely sassmycroft! Not beta'd or britpicked, enjoy!

The door made a small creak as it closed and Sherlock tiptoed in. He held his breath as he stepped lightly, head turned down and curls hanging low to cover up his face. It was all for nothing though, as who he was trying to avoid knew he’d come in anyways.

“Sherlock, welcome home,” the crisp voice called out.

Sherlock froze in his tracks, flinching but still not daring to look up. Taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself so his voice wouldn’t shake, he said, “Thank you, Mycroft.”

“So, how was your day? I doubt you’d learn anything in that subpar school, but there’s always a chance…” Mycroft said, not turning around from his desk as he flipped through various homework that he’d elected not to do.

“It was good, learned lots,” Sherlock said, his voice wavering a bit on the word “learned”. His mind called up unwanted memories of them gathering around Sherlock, saying that he needed to learn a lesson.

Mycroft looked up sharply at that, twisting around in his chair to look at Sherlock. He rested his chin on the back of the chair as he peered at his little brother, whose fists were covered in a film of dirt and clenched at his sides. His curls were matted with leaves and sticks, and they hung in dirty clumps over his face.

“Sherlock, would you lift your head up?”

The words came out a bit sharper than he’d intended, and Sherlock turned his head away, refusing to move.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft tried again. “What’s wrong, why won’t you lift your head?”

“I can’t.”

“Did something happen to you?”

“I’m sorry, Myc,” Sherlock said, sniffing as he raised his head up, his eyes shining. “But it wasn’t my fault!”

Sherlock’s lip was split and his face was covered in red spots and dirt. His eye was completely purple, and the bruise had swollen his eye shut. He tried to bite his lip as it quivered, but flinched when the movement split his lip even further. Mycroft was in front of Sherlock instantly, examining the bruises and cuts.

“Who did this to you?” Mycroft asked, his voice even but his hand clenching the fabric of his pants, and it took all of his willpower not to grit his teeth.

“It was a few kids after school. It doesn’t really matter.” Sherlock sniffled.

Mycroft took a deep breath, trying to rein in the anger as he used a finger to lift up Sherlock’s jaw. He ran through the different ointments they had in the house, trying to decide which one would be the least painful.

“I lied Myc.” Sherlock hiccuped, forcing Mycroft to look at his face, where tears were making their way down his face. “It was my fault.”

“Why would you say something as ridiculous as that?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, it was obvious the mom would be a sore spot…”

“Listen to me Sherlock, people are unbearably stupid, and it shouldn’t be your burden that you have to deal with them. It was absolutely not your fault.” Mycroft assured him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Now, I just need the names of who hurt you.”

“Please, they’ll just make fun of me more if you do anything!” Sherlock said.

“Don’t worry, that won’t happen.”

“Alright...it was mainly Justin Werner.” Sherlock said, tears drying up on his face as he calmed down. “But Myc, promise you won’t confront him or anything like that.”

“I promise I won’t.” Mycroft said, stiffening in surprise when Sherlock launched himself forward to hug Mycroft, before relaxing and patting Sherlock on the back. “Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Sitting back at his desk, Mycroft cradled the phone to his ear as he waited for the person he was calling to pick up, balancing the hard plastic on his shoulder as he idly flipped through the little booklet in front of him. It was quite fortunate that they handed out a pamphlet every year with all the home phone numbers of the kids.

“Hello, this is Mrs. Werner.” a voice answered.

“Hello Mrs. Werner, this is someone from the disciplinary office concerning your son.” Mycroft said, trying to make his voice sound as clipped and professional as possible.

“Justin? Is he in trouble, what did he do?” she said, sounding a bit more panicked.

“He’s not in trouble, as we’ve decided to let this grievance slide. Your Justin was found physically assaulting a classmate, whose parents happen to be quite angry. They can’t put charges against Justin of course, but they can certainly get you in a spot of trouble.” Mycroft said, pausing for a breath, before sharpening his voice. “I’d advise you to take this up with your child, as we cannot overlook something like this again.”

“Oh yes, of course. I’m so very sorry, would it be possible for me to reach out to the parents and personally apologize to them?”

“They would prefer to stay more anonymous at the moment. I hope you can talk some sense into Justin and stop this behavior from continuing.” Mycroft said, his lips tightening.

“Yes, thank you so much for not putting this on his record or anything. Again, thank you.” she said, anger making her voice tighter.

“Good day, Mrs. Werner.” Mycroft said, but before he hung up he could hear the lady shouting her son’s name through the phone. Smiling, he put the phone down and leaned back in his chair, looking once more at the accumulated homework.

Now, why couldn’t homework be as simple as dispelling Sherlock’s problems?


End file.
